


I Am the Resurrection

by Tammyfait69



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-01 15:29:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16767895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tammyfait69/pseuds/Tammyfait69
Summary: Ten years after war ended, Draco is an Auror working a case regarding murdered witches when he suddenly disappears. Three months later, Hermione is in a muggle coffee shop and, to her surprise, she finds Draco, but he thinks he's an actor named Tom Felton who played the role of Draco Malfoy in a series of movies featuring Harry Potter. How will Hermione react when faced with a Draco Malfoy who is absent his memories and free from the tangled web of their tragic past.With the witch case still unsolved and more murders happening, the race is on to return Draco’s memories and discover who wanted him out of the way so badly, they created an AU within his mind to do so. Had Draco unmasked the killer? Will the maniac try again with so much at stake? And how can Hermione protect both her heart and the wizard she is falling hard and fast for when a madman is after them all?





	1. Chapter 1

I Am the Resurrection

By Tammyfait69

Notes: I do not own HP. This story is just for fun.

Rating M for sex and language

Pairing: Draco M. & Hermione G.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**Chapter 1.**

**July 22 nd, 2009**

He enjoyed their screams.

A series of silencing charms ensured his test subjects could cry, beg and plead for their lives freely and for days without the danger of being discovered.

His first kill had been the hardest, but it had been a necessity. This was his fourth. It wasn’t just easier, it had become exciting. Through his work, he had discovered a side of himself he had not known existed…until now.

He got a thrill from watching someone die.

Good thing old snake face hadn’t realized his potential for darkness ten years ago, he probably wouldn’t have survived the bloody war.

That would have been a true shame, for then he would have never fallen in love with _her_ and begun his work.

He so enjoyed his work.

He picked up the muggle surgery scalpel. An ingenious tool designed to save lives, he preferred to use it to take them.

“You can scream all you want, Jeanne,” he said softly, advancing on the sobbing witch. “No one can hear you.” He held up the scalpel, enjoying how the steel of the blade caught the light. “No one will ever hear you again.”

He was the Resurrection and he had an important job to do. Nothing would stop him from completing his task.

**XXOOXX**

**______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

**Budleigh Babberton: July 24 th, 2009: 2am**

This made four. Draco Malfoy felt the weariness in his bones as he squatted down to get a closer look at the latest victim. He ran a hand down his face. Four young witches butchered by some maniac. Bloody hell! When would he catch this sodding bastard? Malfoy felt especially responsible because he was the lead Auror assigned to the homicides. He closed his eyes and breathed a deep calming breath at the sight before him. Draco opened his eyes. Salazar! This one was, by far, the worst yet; the poor girl’s face was frozen in an expression of terror the likes of which Draco had not seen since Voldemort used to torture muggles for fun at the dining room table at Malfoy Manor. And like the Dark Bastard, it was obvious this killer took a depraved pleasure in his victims suffering; it sickened the blond Auror.

“Do we know who she is?” He asked, resisting to urge to close the girl’s frightened blue eyes. He knew better than to contaminate a crime scene, but her eyes…Draco knew he would not forget the look in her eyes.

“Name’s Jeanne Grayson; just celebrated her 20th birthday last month,” Michael Corner, one of the magical crime scene investigators said, handing Malfoy a small clutch and a magical Hogwarts identification card.

Malfoy stood to his full height and took the small purse and id. “Thanks Corner,” Draco said, examining the items. He scowled at the moving picture on the identification. Young Jeanne Grayson looked so happy as she smiled and waved to him. How did she meet the monster who would take her life in such a despicable manner? His gaze drifted to where her body was. It was a ghastly scene despite the absence of blood at the body site. The manner with which the young woman was killed and the way she was posed would haunt the nightmares of every Auror and magical crime scene investigator (MCSI) working the case.

The air felt thick. Draco recognized it. The Manor used to feel like that when fucking Voldemort had lived there. “Magical traces?” he questioned.

“Copious amounts of dark magic residue on the victim and surrounding the scene,” Corner, the lead MCSI, confirmed.

It was as he expected. Malfoy leaned down to get a closer look at the latest victim of the psychopath MLE had been chasing for months. The witch’s heart had been removed just like the rest, but this murder was far more gruesome than the other three. Jeanne Grayson had been gutted, her entrails pulled out and posed right in front of the war memorial. Draco made a face, icy rage bubbling just under the surface at his inability to stop the madman responsible for the grisly murders. He wanted to scream, yell and thrash something or someone, however, he couldn’t let his temper guide him, not tonight. He needed a clear head, so he forced himself to tamp down his anger and maintain a clinical detachment while investigating the immediate scene, looking for any clue as to the identity of the sick bastard behind the killings.

The sodding devil had to be a dark wizard, but he never left more than a distorted magical trace and nothing more. Much to Draco’s dismay, the Grayson scene was just as bereft of evidence as the previous three, except for one glaring difference; Grayson was posed, not just dumped. Their killer was growing bold. This was a message and Draco heard it loud and clear.

‘Catch me if you can.’ It was a taunt and Malfoy didn’t like being taunted.

“This victim was tortured, Malfoy,’ Corner said. “He didn’t just take her heart like the others. Why the change in his modus operandi?”

Draco rubbed the back of his neck, massaging the stiffness there. “He’s starting to like it,” he replied softly.

Corner’s eyes widened. “Merlin Malfoy, I think that’s the most chilling thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Draco shrugged as if to apologize without actually saying the words.

Corner’s eyes went to the young witch and he grimaced. “Unfortunately, I think you’re right.”

“Yeah,” Draco muttered. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure he was too.

Draco turned when heard the loud crack of an apparition and looked up to see Harry Potter, Head Auror for the Magical Law Enforcement Division and Hermione Granger, Head of the Research Department for the MLE heading his way.

“Let me know if you find anything else, Corner.” The MCSI tech nodded and Malfoy moved away from the scene, stepping over the magical “do not cross” barrier to meet the newest arrivals.

When they reached him, Draco didn’t bother with greetings, he was more interested to know why Potter had brought Granger to an active crime scene. She was books and research, not field work.

“Potter,” he gritted out. “A word if you don’t mind.” Without waiting for the Head Auror to respond, Draco strode several feet away from the two war heroes, knowing Potter would follow.

Harry did. “Is it our killer?” He asked before Malfoy had a chance to explode.

Draco nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “It is. And he’s escalating.”

“He is? How?”

Draco made a face, thinking of the brutality of this latest victim. “You’ll see soon enough when you get a look at the body.”

Malfoy ran a weary hand down his face. He was shattered, this case was gutting him. The body count continued to rise, and he had no viable leads to track back to a suspect. The last thing he needed was to deal with Ministry politics on top of the stress he was already under. “Look Potter, what the bloody hell are you thinking bringing Granger here?”

“I know what you’re going to say…” Harry started, but Malfoy cut him off.

“Do you?” he asked, a curl to his lip and his skepticism apparent. “Well then, if you are that familiar with my thoughts, can you explain me having to ask why you’ve brought an Auror with no field training to my crime scene?” He scowled. “Since you know me so well, surely you knew I wouldn’t appreciate it.”

Harry ignored the blond Auror’s sarcasm. “I brought Hermione in on this case because this bloke has killed four witches in as many months, and I thought a fresh perspective might help.”

Draco narrowed his eyes and when he spoke his voice was low and angry. “Are you trying to say I can’t do my job?”

Harry sighed. “Not at all, but I know you’ve been running yourself ragged over this case. Putting in eighteen-hour days… and after what you went through a few months ago I—”

Draco bared his teeth in anger. “Don’t bring that shite up, Potter!” he snarled. “We agreed never to speak of it again after I was cleared by that mind healer to return to active field work.” His mouth twisted into the sneer he was infamous for in Hogwarts. “Keep your sodding word, yeah?”

Harry heaved another sigh. “Fine, but I still think Hermione can help. You know she’s bright.”

“Brightest witch of her age. Yeah. I know the hype,” he replied with a roll of his silver eyes. “But she’s had no field training. Why in the name of Merlin would you want her to get her first taste of it on a case like this?”

‘Because she’s brilliant, observant—”

“She’s a bloody bookworm!”

From behind them, Hermione suddenly chimed in. “ _She_ is right here, and _she_ can hear you.” When Draco’s head snapped up and he glared at the young witch, Hermione shrugged. “Perhaps a silencing charm might help if you don’t intend me to hear you insult me.”

Harry tried and failed to wipe the smile from his face when Malfoy returned his attention to the young war hero turned Auror.

“I can’t work with her,” Draco announced.

“You can. You just don’t want to,” Harry countered.

“And why should I?”

Potter ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair. “Malfoy I’m not saying you aren’t good at your job. You’re the best Auror in the MLE, which is why you were assigned this case to begin with, but this lunatic has killed four witches in the last four months. If you’re right, and he’s escalating, then he isn’t going to stop until we stop him. Is it really such an ordeal to have a fresh set of eyes? Or is your ego more important to you than solving these murders?”

Draco shook his head. “Fuck!” he muttered under his breath. He hated to admit, but Potter made a valid point. He was exhausted, perhaps having use of Granger’s talents might help. She _was_ bloody brilliant, Draco knew it to be true. If only she wasn’t a bossy, know it all. Draco rubbed the bridge of his nose already feeling the headache approaching that working with Granger would cause.

After a long, tense moment, he gave a curt nod. “Fine, I’ll make it work, but I’m senior Auror on the case, yeah?” Potter nodded, his smile returning. Malfoy grimaced at the sight of Potter’s small grin. “And I won’t tolerate her bitching about my manners or lack thereof either, Potter.”

“Duly noted, Malfoy,” Harry said.

The blond Auror turned his attention to the with in question. Granger was a war heroine and had seen more than her share of death, Draco knew this, but the wizard they were dealing with in this case gave new meaning to the word monster. “Are you sure she’s up to this?”

Harry clapped Draco on the shoulder. “I appreciate it, Malfoy, and yeah, Hermione will be brilliant. You’ll see.”

Draco looked down his nose at the offending appendage resting on his shoulder and Harry promptly removed it with an eye roll.

Draco Malfoy was not the touchy-feely kind of wizard.

“You won’t regret it,” Harry said, pleased Malfoy had agreed without being ordered to accept Hermione on his team; which had been the next step if the blond refused.

The two wizards returned to where Hermione was waiting.

She smiled. “Are we okay then?”

Draco felt the need to warn Hermione as they made there way to the body. “Brace yourself. He’s outdone himself with this one.”

“What do you—” Granger’s words died in her throat when she got her first good view of the witch posed in such a macabre fashion. Jeanne Grayson had probably been pretty in life, but with a terrorized death mask forever distorting her features, one would never know it. She was propped up against the war memorial, legs splayed and outstretched, arms limp by her sides with the palms up. There was a gaping hole in her chest where her heart was cut out, and the final (newest) touch from the killer was a clean slice across the abdomen from which her intestines had been pulled to lay in a pile upon her lap.

Hermione resisted the urge to gag. “Merlin,” she breathed, horrified.

“Blimey,” Harry said, his green eyes taking in the grisly scene. “It looks like something from Jack the Ripper.”

Draco’s head whipped about to stare at Harry. “Just a sodding minute! You’ve seen crimes of this nature before and you’re just mentioning it now?”

“No,” Potter replied absently as he studied the brutal display before him. “It was a hundred years ago. They’re not related.”

“What?” Draco said, confused.

“Jack the Ripper was a muggle serial killer that terrorized Whitechapel in 1888,” Hermione explained. “There can’t be a connection. It’s just…the gruesomeness of the crimes are similar. That’s all.”

Draco didn’t comment, instead he began to relay what he knew so far. “There were traces of dark magic surrounding the memorial when we first arrived and there were magical charms in place to keep muggles from seeing the body. The wound to her abdomen was done with precision. Corner thinks it may be some sort of muggle surgical instrument that made the cut since there are no traces of magic on the wound itself.”

“There’s no blood. It’s obviously a body dump,” Hermione commented looking around the scene.

“Like the last three,” Malfoy said. “He obviously has a location where he kills them. These aren’t crimes of opportunity. He plans them very carefully. Maybe even—”

“Stalks them and/or get’s to know them personally,” Hermione finished.

Draco was surprised, and it showed. “Yes. What makes you think that as well?”

“Well, I was going over the files earlier and the first victim, Louise Fletcher. Her neighbor said she had recently started dating a man. But there wasn’t any evidence in her house about him. Nothing. Not a picture, an owl message…nothing. And the second victim, she was a Death Eaters daughter…”

“Lizette La Crombe,” Draco said. “I knew Lizette. She was careful. She wouldn’t have allowed just anyone to get close to her.” Malfoy looked pensive for a moment. “You have to be when your parents were associated with the darkest wizard of our time. People tend to transfer the hate.”

Hermione empathized but didn’t mention it. Malfoy wouldn’t appreciate anyhow. “Exactly,” she said instead. “So, our killer got past her defenses somehow.”

“So, you think he knows his victims?” Harry asked.

“Knows them already or gets to know them, yes,” Draco said, eyeing Granger. Perhaps having her working the case with him wouldn’t be the disaster he’d first thought.

“Do we know who she is yet?” Hermione asked, leaning down to look at the poor girl. She was young. No more than twenty. “Maybe she was a student at Hogwarts.”

“Former student,” Draco said. “Her name was Jeanne Grayson. She graduated two years ago.” He handed Harry her Hogwarts identification card.

Harry glanced down, his face saddened as he watched a young Jeanne smile and wave at him. “Bloody hell. You’re right, Malfoy. He’s escalating.”

“He’s starting to like it, Potter,” Draco said, chilling everyone with his words.

“He’s taunting us,” Hermione added. “He’s becoming bolder as if daring us to find him.”

Draco’s gaze shot to her, his surprise evident. “I agree.” He waved a hand at poor Jeanne Grayson’s body. “This was a challenge.” His jaw tightened, and that old Malfoy sneer reappeared. “I’d like to give the wanker what he’s after, Granger.”

She nodded. “So, would I, Malfoy.”

“Then let’s get to work. It’s half past three (am),” Draco said. “There’s nothing further to be found here. I’m for home to try and get at least a couple hours’ sleep. Let’s meet back in my office in the morning, yeah? We can go over the case files together.”

Hermione nodded. “I’ll be there.”

Harry had to stay at the scene until the MCSI team were finished logging in the evidence, so he would not be returning to the MLE offices with Draco and Hermione. “Let’s all meet with Shacklebolt tomorrow morning at nine first. He’s been owling me every day, chomping at the bit for an update. Let’s give him these new theories.”

Draco snorted. “Why? So, he can see we’re not just sitting around twiddling our wands?”

Hermione chuckled softly. “I understand you reluctance to play Ministry politics, Malfoy, but if we have Kingsley’s backing, funding for whatever we need won’t be hard to come by. It’s better to have him on our side than opposing us.”

Draco could see the logic behind that. “Fine. Granger, I’ll see you in my office at eight then we can meet with you, Potter at Shacklebolt’s office at nine.”

With that agreed upon, the blond wizard apparated out, leaving the two thirds of the Golden Trio behind.

After Malfoy had departed, Harry turned to Hermione. “Still think you can’t work with him?” he asked with a smirk.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the chuffed expression on her friend’s face. “Fine. He’s far more accommodating than I gave him credit for.”

“We need to catch this maniac, ‘Mione. Please play nice with him and help us stop these killings. If I didn’t think you could be a valuable member of the investigation team, I wouldn’t have agreed to your request, but you have to work with Malfoy. And by work, I don’t mean argue and bicker.”

Hermione gave her oldest and dearest friend a smile. “I will, Harry, although I think asking us not to bicker might be too much, However,” she added before he could comment, “shockingly, after seeing him in action, I’m actually looking forward to working with him.” She frowned. “Looking forward to working with Draco Malfoy…” She shook her head. “Words I never thought to utter.”

Harry laughed softly. “I can imagine…as well as relate.”

They hugged briefly before Hermione apparated away.

**XXOOXX**

**________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

**Later that night:**

Draco hesitated outside her small house a moment before knocking. Even if it wasn’t a ridiculously late (or was it early) time to be calling, he knew he shouldn’t be there. He had ended things between them, but he just…he didn’t want to be alone. Call it selfish. Call it desperate. He wasn’t sure really. He just needed to lose himself in her warmth.

The door opened quietly, and she blinked sleepy eyes at him. Her dark hair was messy, and it was rather obvious he had gotten her out of bed. She was dressed in a cotton robe belted at her slender waist and looked none too thrilled to have him appearing at her doorstep at four in the morning.

He didn’t blame her.

“What are you doing here, Draco?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning a hip against her doorjamb. “I thought you said it was over.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know. I’m sorry. I just… tonight…”

“You found another body?”

His shoulders slumped, and he nodded. “I can’t seem to stop him.”

She sighed, pausing as if unsure what she should do before she made her decision and reached for his hand. Without another word she led him inside and to her bedroom.

His hands were rough as he pushed her robe off and tugged away her knickers and nightgown. She was far gentler as she helped him undress in silence and, when they fell onto the bed in a tangle of naked arms and legs, Draco buried his hands in her hair, kissing her as he took refuge in the comfort she offered. He braced himself above her, watching her face as he thrust into her body with deep, forceful strokes, making her scream his name as she came around his driving cock. She was always so expressive in her pleasure, he was not, but it was one of the things he enjoyed about her. And, when she said she loved him, he was reminded why he shouldn’t be here. He was only going to hurt her again. He gave her two more orgasms (as if that would make it right), before he quietly sought his own relief, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood to remain silent as he spilled himself within her wet heat.

Afterwards, she curled up beside him, wanting to cuddle, and this time, he let her. On a night like tonight, he found it easier to allow her to cling to him; maybe even welcomed it just a tad. He knew he should leave and take his problems with him, but he couldn’t. He needed her. Needed her to make him feel something in a world that felt empty presently.

Salazar he was a selfish bastard. He knew it but knowing his flaws didn’t stop him from rolling her under him once more as the first light of dawn broke to take what she gave—a moment of peace in a world that had turned increasingly savage with each death he could not solve.

She’d said she loved him again. He could not say it back. Once more, they were at an impasse.

He could hear her soft cries following him from her bedroom as he left her flat, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. He thought slamming the door shut would be more appropriate for the finality of it all, but he wasn’t angry. He was empty. He knew he shouldn’t have come; he also knew he would not be back.

**XX00XX**

**___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

**Okay, so that's the first chapter. Leave a comment, let me know what you think. Reviews are love for the new writer (like myself) and the muse! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco goes missing and the MLE are no closer to catching the killer as they are to finding Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own none of the HP characters. They are the property of JK Rowling. I just like to play with them. This chapter has implied/references of past non-con/rape. I
> 
> It is not graphic, but if that triggers you, do not read.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**Chapter 2**

**July 23 rd, 2009: Magical Law Enforcement Offices: Draco Malfoy’s office**

Draco leaned back in his chair, running both hands through his short blond hair. The words in the file he was studying were starting to blur and he turned his head towards the clock. He was surprised to see it was after ten pm. In the last forty-eight hours, he’d slept for maybe five of them. He’d met Granger bright and early at eight as they had planned, and they had spent the entirety of the day going through the murder files together, laying out all the evidence, magical reports and witness interviews. For hours, they had gone through each and every detail, looking for new leads and bouncing ideas off one another. They’d argued several times because they were just too stubborn and opinionated to not speak their minds, however, Draco had to admit, he found himself impressed with his partner’s attention to detail, her intelligence, insight as well as her dedication to catching their killer. She’d never once complained or asked to take a break.

It had been a long day and he was knackered; he figured Granger had to be as exhausted as he was.

“Should we call it a night?” he asked, picking up the empty take away containers from his desk and tossing them into the trash.

Hermione glanced up from the list she was making. “Malfoy, did you know that each of our witches took an advance studies class in the dark arts?”

Draco paused in his effort to tidy up his desk to look at her. “Yeah. I looked into it. The subject was the same, but their classes were in different years with three different teachers…” He balled up a piece of paper and shot it into his trash can. “I couldn’t find anything besides the subject matter itself to link them.”

Hermione smirked at seeing Draco Malfoy, pureblood wizard shooting a paper ball as if he were a muggle playing American basketball!

“Why?” Draco asked. “Did you find something?”

“No, but I was thinking that having a class in common would lead to other things in common such as dark wizarding shops and such. You know for research or potion ingredients, etcetera.”

“Yeah, I thought of that too,” he told her, leaning back in his comfortable looking wing backed chair. “I made the rounds in Knockturn Alley; and while they frequented a few of the same shops, nothing stuck out as odd or strange.”

“I see your old Slytherin friend Theo Nott has a shop in Knockturn Alley.”

Draco paused, frowning. “He does. Nott’s Naughtiest.”

Hermione chuckled at the name. “Really? Nott’s Naughtiest?”

Malfoy smirked. “Just because he’s Slytherin doesn’t mean he has good taste.”

“Obviously not,” Hermione sniffed. After a moment she asked, “Did you interview him and ask if he knew any of our witches.”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course, I did.” When Hermione didn’t reply, Malfoy’s brows started to lower. The lack of sleep and frustration over the case made his voice sharp. “What? Do you think I took it easy on him because he’s a former Death Eater’s son and a Slytherin?”

Hermione sighed. “That’s not what I said.”

“But you implied it with your swotty little nose in the air.”

“My…what?” Hermione shook her head, not wanting to be drawn in to yet another argument. She took a deep breath to calm her rising temper. “Let’s not exaggerate. I wasn’t implying anything, I assure you.”

“Let’s not exaggerate,” he mimicked. They had been forced together for hours on end and Draco’s tolerance was nearing its end. Granger irritated him and now that he was on a roll, he wasn’t ready to leave off. “Sure, you weren’t,” he scoffed. “I know how you Gryffindor’s think. You assume that all Slytherins stick together and can’t be trusted.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, what are you on about, Malfoy?” Hermione snapped, her patience stretched thin as well after all the time spent together. “I never said anything of the sort, but since you seem so defensive regarding the matter, perhaps I need to!”

He shot to his feet, slammed his palms down on his desk and leaned over towards her. “Take that back…now.”

Not to be intimidated, Hermione leaped to her feet too. “No! Why should I? You seem intent on putting words in my mouth, maybe I should start reading between the lines as well.”

Draco raked an angry hand through his hair. “I knew this wouldn’t work,” he grumbled. “You’re a bossy swot and I can’t work like this.”

“You know what?” Hermione snapped, shoving her belongings back into her bag. “Perhaps you’re right, it’s been a long day. Let’s call it a night.”

“Abso-bloody-lootely,” Draco growled. “Is that not what I said before you decided to be a bitch!?”

Hermione rounded on him, marching right up to his desk and poking her finger in his face. “Call me a name like that again, Malfoy, and I’ll go straight to Shacklebolt and have you brought up on charges of harassment.” His eyes widened at her threat. “Are we clear you insufferable ferrety prat?”

He laughed darkly, absent humor. “Oh, it’s perfectly acceptable for you to insult me but you get your knickers in a twist if I do the same?” He shook his head. “It’s like Hogwarts all over again. The Golden trio could break the rules over and again, but fuck all if anyone else did it!” He sat back down in his chair and leaned back. “Piss off, Granger! Go to Shacklebolt. I could give a toss. You’re a bloody hypocrite and you know it.”

Her entire body stiffened at the insult. “I am not!” She refuted hotly. “Any rule we broke, we did it for the greater good, Malfoy, unlike you and your group of thugs!”

“Really?” He snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, using a _confundo_ on McLaggen during his quidditch tryout was for the greater good?”

Hermione flushed bright red. “How did you—?”

“Know that you’re the reason the weasel got his keepers gig?”

Hermione nodded, too embarrassed to say anything.

He snorted. “C’mon Granger, it wasn’t too hard to figure out. He was fine before tryouts, but after…the poor bloke could barely manage a flight of steps.” He snickered. “It was rather ingenious actually, and as a Slytherin, I could appreciate what you did and why, but then again, I’m not prattling on about my good and noble intentions either. Am I?”

“No, you’re not.” Hermione’s righteous indignation slowly seeped away. “And you’re right about what I did to McLaggen. It was for selfish purposes.” He gave a short bark of laughter and she rubbed her temples, staving off a headache. “Look, before we continue this schoolyard rivalry, I’d like to say I if I implied you did not thoroughly interview Nott, I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intent,” she said. “I’ve been more than impressed with the work you’ve done on this case and I truly want to partner with you on it.”

Malfoy had to admit, he was no longer annoyed she’d been assigned to his investigation. Well, he hadn’t been until just a moment ago. “I’ll admit to being impressed too.” It wasn’t an apology and he knew it. She did too, and an awkward silence filled the air. He sighed. “Fine, I apologize for calling you a bitch. It was uncalled for.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said a genuine smile flitting across her face for a moment before she tucked it away and became all business again. “Can we start over?” she asked. “I would like for us to be able to work this case together without resorting to throwing insults at each other as if we were still at Hogwarts.”

He nodded. “Sure, but let’s start over tomorrow. I don’t know about you but I’m bloody shattered. I’ve had about an hours’ worth of sleep and have been existing on pure caffeine for the last forty-eight. I’m heading home for a hot shower and my bed, from which I hope _not_ to be disturbed from for at least six hours.”

“Sounds brilliant,” Hermione said. “I shall see you in the morning then?”

Draco got up from his desk. “Let’s meet here at nine, then.”

“Nine it is.” Hermione paused in his doorway. “Hey Malfoy?” He looked up from his desk, brow cocked in silent question. “I am sorry if I insulted you.”

“It’s in the past Granger. Let’s just try and work together, yeah?”

Hermione nodded her head and left Draco’s office.

The blond wizard sighed. He glanced at the clock. Near eleven. It was late, but not late enough he couldn’t drop in. Deciding he had time for a personal call before he headed home, Draco turned out his light and exited his office.

No one, especially not Draco Malfoy, expected it would be the last time he’d see his office for some time.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**August 1 st, 2009. Ministry Building. **

Draco Malfoy was missing.

For the last week, they had been rounding up the usual suspects, trying to find a lead in the missing Auror’s case. Hermione watched as Harry escorted Blaise Zabini into interrogation room A. The Italian wizard had ignored their first summons to come in for questioning, saying he’d been out of country. Harry had found him an hour ago at his mother’s estate in Wiltshire, near Malfoy Manor and had brought him in. His reluctance to speak to them made her suspicious, but then again, most of the old Slytherin or Death Eater kids did not want to come forward and speak to the MLE, even for their fallen Prince.

With a sigh she got up from her seat and made her way to room A and joined Harry for the interrogation.

Blaise was seated at a scarred wooden table in the center of the drab room. The wall sconces around the room gave it a golden glow. He was obviously upset as he waved his hands in the air at Harry, causing shadows to dance along the wall from the candlelight.

Hermione entered the room and stayed standing, leaning against the wall of the room to watch for the moment.

“Look Potter,” Zabini was saying as she entered the room, closing the door behind her. “I play Quidditch with him every weekend. Hit the pubs with him at least once a month and…” Zabini gave Hermione an appreciative once over. “I’ve even shared a witch or two with the bloke,” he added with a wicked grin.

Zabini was a handsome git, but his arrogance was a turn off for Hermione. She rolled her eyes and ignored the dark wizard’s comment and look. But Merlin, she did feel sorry for any unsuspecting witch Zabini and Malfoy set their sights on. That would be a lethal combination of bad-boy sex appeal.

“Interested Granger?” Zabini asked, offering her a wink.

“Oh please. Shut it, Zabini,” she said.

“Your loss,” he said with a shrug.

“I doubt it,” she returned with a snort.

Rebuffed, Blaise turned his attention back to Harry. “Fact is, Draco is my best mate and I resent you questioning me as if I’m a bloody suspect!”

Harry pulled out a seat for Hermione at the table. “You weren’t a suspect until you ignored my original summons,” he said, waiting for Hermione to take her chair before he took his own. He leaned forward. “Care to tell me again why you didn’t show up if Draco is like you say, “your best mate”?”

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Three hours later, Hermione and Harry left interrogation room A no closer to finding Malfoy than they had been when they entered. Blaise had been out of the country at his villa in Italy. He had been there the week of Malfoy’s disappearance as well, giving him a decent alibi. However, that did not mean he had not returned using an illegal portkey, or even by muggle transportation, so he was not entirely cleared.

He gave them a bit of information regarding Malfoy’s private life, but not much.

When Hermione had pressed him, Blaise had blown up at her.

“Look Granger, Drake doesn’t broadcast his affairs, you get it?” He said. “After Astoria lost the bloody plot on him, he has taken great care to keep his shagging low key. I know he was seeing a couple of Ravenclaw bints before the New Year debacle with Tori.” He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “Other than that, he’s been a sodding monk for all I know.”

“What about his other friends? Associates?” Harry had asked.

“What friends and associates?” Blaise had returned. “He works eighteen sodding hours a day here!” Zabini had turned the tables on them for a moment when he asked why they didn’t know more about Draco considering they (The Auror Dept.) spent more time with him than even his own family.

His acerbic attitude made him suspicious, however, they had nothing to hold him on and were forced to let him go.

Hermione ignored the smirk the former Slytherin gave her as he swaggered out of the MLE offices.

Harry, however, nearly went off the trolley when Zabini paused and asked him how Ginny was.

There had been such a lecherous expression on the Italian wizard’s face, Hermione had been forced to keep a restraining arm on her best friend.

Zabini had only added fuel to Harry’s Fiendfyre when he had chuckled and added, “Make sure to send Ginevra my best, Potter, yeah? She was one feisty witch.”

It was a good thing Harry hadn’t had his wand, he might have lost his head and hexed Zabini right there in front of the rest of the Aurors, assistants and even a stray delivery person or two. Hermione was relieved to see Blaise Zabini leave the department unscathed and uncursed.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**August 26 th, 2009. Ministry Building: Harry Potter’s Office. **

**_“Daily Prophet Scoop: D_ ** **_raco Malfoy, Heir to the Malfoy Fortune, Auror and Ex-Death Eater Still Missing. Potter and MLE Clueless or Culpable?”_ **

Hermione snarled as she read the headline once again. “It’s rubbish!” She flung the copy of the Daily Prophet aside as she paced in front of Harry’s desk. “Rita Skeeter should have her journalism privileges revoked! She writes nothing but slanderous rumors.”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t let her bother me, but the culpable part of that article is worrisome. What is she trying to imply, that the MLE had something to do with Malfoy’s disappearance?” She scoffed. “It’s ridiculous. He’s one of our own.”

“Exactly. Ugh! That woman,” she muttered. “I should have kept her in that jar.”

“Huh?” Harry said.

“Oh, never mind. Let’s forget Rita Skeeter and her not so moral journalistic code and focus on the cases at hand.”

Harry had stepped in as lead Auror on the murdered witches case. Another witch was murdered at the beginning of the month, but the MLE was no closer to finding a suspect in the case than they had been since after the first murder. It was frustrating, but Harry kept at it, while Hermione worked Malfoy’s missing person case. In the last month, she questioned several of Draco’s known acquaintances and had been looking into his private life with a fine-toothed comb in her search to find the missing Auror.

Hermione handed Harry a list of suspects she’d put together. It was long. “Hermione, there’s over fifty names here. Yeah, he’s a git, but surely he hasn’t brassed off this many people enough to want to kill him!”

“Well, they’re not all enemies. Some of them are his…ahem…ex-lovers. There are quite a few,” she said blushing and hating herself for it.

Harry nodded. He ignored her flushed cheeks, Hermione would just get angry with him if he pointed them out anyways. “Okay. Any that stand out more than the rest?”

“We need to bring in Astoria Greengrass again,” she said. “You remember how she stalked him after he broke up with her?”

Harry’s brows drew down over his green eyes. “But Hermione—”

“I know you interviewed her a few days after he went missing, but I have new information.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I recently discovered she was seeing a mind healer at St. Mungo’s for months but stopped her weekly visits after Malfoy disappeared. It’s suspicious. Perhaps, she knows something and is afraid her healer will realize. Whatever her motivation, I think she is worth a second look.”

Harry sighed, scratched his head and looked everywhere but in her eyes. Hermione knew him too well. It was obvious he had information he thought pertinent but wasn’t sure he should share with her.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Potter heaved a sigh but didn’t reply. Hermione wasn’t having it. “Harry, I’ve known you for fifteen years and I recognize when you are keeping things from me.”

Harry pulled out a file and set it on his desk. “This file contains my report on a situation that Malfoy didn’t want anyone to know about...”

Hermione reached for the file, but Harry held it away from her; Hermione sat back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay, normally, I’d understand you wanting to keep a confidence, but honestly, Harry, Malfoy’s privacy is secondary at the moment. He’s missing!”

When he still hesitated to hand over the file, Hermione prodded him. “You may as well show it to me because you know I will simply harass you until you do.”

Believing her, Harry caved. “Fine. But what I tell you goes or what you read in this…” He indicated the file, “goes no further than this room.” His expression was serious. “The only reason I know of the incident is because I’m Head Auror. You have to promise me, Hermione.”

“Incident?” She gave a solemn of her agreement. “Of course. I give you my word.”

She reached for the file, but he kept it from her. “Before I let you read my report, I need to give you the circumstance behind it.”

Hermione huffed out an impatient breath but nodded and waved a hand for him to continue. “Fine.”

“First off, Malfoy and Astoria have a rather complicated history…”

“Harry,” Hermione said with a roll of her eyes, “please tell me we’re not going to rehash their relationship?”

He scowled at her. “No, but as I said, before you can read the report you have to understand the circumstances between them.”

Hermione capitulated and relaxed into her chair to listen to Harry’s explanation. “I’m sorry. You were saying…”

“Last summer, Astoria was diagnosed with a rare magical blood disease.” He sighed. “She’s dying, Hermione. She has maybe a few years left and that is with regular blood transfusions.”

“Was Malfoy still with her at the time?”

“No. But he was still in her life. After her diagnosis, she asked him to father a child with her...” Hermione’s eyes widened, but before she could interrupt with questions, Harry went on with his story. “He refused of course because she had become a tad obsessed with him.” Harry shrugged. “I think you’ll recall how she used to wait for him in the lobby for hours.”

“A tad obsessed?!” Hermione snorted. “Harry calling Astoria a tad obsessed is like saying London is a bit foggy. She was off the bloody trolley and you know it. She followed him around for months, arrived unannounced and uninvited at his office. She harassed the women who worked with him. For Merlin’s sake! The woman once threatened me with an Unforgivable when she saw me leaving his office!”

She shook her head at her best friend. “No, a tad does not begin to cover it. And let’s not forget the New Years’ gala!” the cinnamon-eyed witch reminded.

Harry’s expression looked pained. “Yes, well unfortunately, we all got a deeper look into Malfoy’s relationship than we’d have liked on that night.”

“I’d say so,” she agreed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t think anyone who was there will soon forget Astoria Greengrass in her stunning ball gown slicing open her wrists in front of the entire ministry and begging Malfoy to love her again. It was quite a spectacle!”

“Yeah, it made the pages of the Prophet for months afterwards.” He sighed, running a hand through his shaggy hair. “And that wasn’t the extent of it. Malfoy never let any of us know how bad it really got until he was forced to. After New year’s, she began sleeping outside his door; leaving notes and gifts or when she was angry, graffitiing the walls of his complex. He had to double his wards just to keep her out of his building.”

“Good Godric,” she murmured. “How do you know all this?”

“I’m Head Auror,” he said. “After the incident he was forced to tell me the extent of Astoria’s harassment.”

“This is the second time you’ve mentioned an incident,” Hermione said. “What incident?”

Harry took a deep breath before he dropped the bombshell regarding the “incident”. “Astoria didn’t just stalk and harass Malfoy. She went so far as to kidnap and hold him hostage once.”

Hermione about fell from her chair in shock. “What are you going on about? When?”

“Do you remember just after Valentine’s Day—”

“When he didn’t show up for work for two days,” Hermione answered.

“Yes. Astoria had him in her flat as her captive for those two days trying to force him to impregnate her.”

Hermione gasped, her jaw nearly unhinging at that bit of news. “Merlin’s wand! You’re joking.”

When Harry remained quiet, Hermione lost her temper. “Are you telling me Astoria Greengrass sexually assaulted Draco Malfoy, an Auror with this office with no charges brought against her?”

Her voice had risen to shrill, and Harry shushed her.

Hermione sat forward in her chair. “Don’t shush me, Harry Potter! Tell me you’re joking. Tell me that this is some perverted jest.”

“I wish I could, but it’s the truth,” Harry replied solemnly, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “I know how it sounds…”

Her snort of derision cut him off. “What it sounds like is Astoria should either be in Azkaban or the Janus Thickey ward at St. Mungo’s! And since I know formal charges have never been pressed against the woman, that begs the question… Why? Why is she not incarcerated in some fashion?”

Under Hermione’s glare, the Boy Who Lived fidgeted in his seat. “Draco wanted to just forget it happened,” he told her, shuffling the papers on his desk around. “

Hermione was gobsmacked. “That is not his choice, Harry. A crime was committed!”

“I understand that, but he called it a desperate act from a desperate woman. He didn’t want her punished.”

Hermione wasn’t buying that. “Rubbish! Lack of victim cooperation has no bearing on pressing charges.” She wagged her finger in Harry’s face. “You are his superior, you should have insisted. Allowing him to make that call was unacceptable.”

“I tried everything I could to convince him he should press formal charges. He refused. Flat out refused, Hermione.”

“Why? Is it because he’s a wizard, not a witch?” she bit out, furious. “Tell me Malfoy isn’t one of those wizards that believes a man cannot be raped by a woman?” She rolled her eyes. “Knowing him—of course he probably is!”

Harry winced at the word “rape”. “I don’t think it was that. I think he felt badly for her truthfully. She IS dying Hermione.”

Hermione was not appeased. “That’s ridiculous! I’m sorry she’s ill, Harry, really I am, but that makes no difference in what she did.” She leveled her gaze on him, arching an irate brow. “By your principle, should we allow every person diagnosed with a terminal illness simply break the law at their leisure?”

Harry rubbed his temples. “I understand what you are saying, ‘Mione, and no we should not allow everyone to just break the law, but I don’t think you’re comprehending Malfoy’s determination to not have this filed.”

“You didn’t need his permission!” she argued.

“Yes, I did!” He snapped back. “Without him saying she forced him it would be her word against no one’s!” Hermione’s ire dissipated at that and Harry sighed. “Look, I don’t want to argue with you over this. I tried to get him to file. I did. I even threatened his job for Merlin’s sake!”

Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise. She hadn’t realized.

“You know what he said? He told me to fire him then. He even went as far as to let me know, in no uncertain terms I might add, if he was brought before the Wizengamot, he would say it was consensual kinky shagging.” Harry turned his green eyes to Hermione. “What would you have me do? Force him once again to do something he didn’t want?”

She grimaced when he put it that way. “I’m sorry,” Hermione said. It was clear Harry really hadn’t a choice. “You’re right, if his wish was to not prosecute, the case would have been thrown out immediately.”

Thinking of Astoria’s appointments at St. Mungo’s and the mind healer, a sudden thought came to Hermione, causing her to feel a bit ill. “She’s not pregnant, is she?”

“No,” Harry answered, shaking his head. “Thank Merlin. Malfoy said her blood cleansing potions apparently interfered with the fertility potions and rendered them ineffective.”

“And her appointments with the mind healer?”

“Malfoy insisted she go,” Harry replied. “It was part of his requirements with her in exchange for not formally charging her.”

“Well, at least he did that,” she said. “And, I hope you insisted he speak with a professional as well, despite his wishes.”

“I did. I put him behind a desk after the incident and insisted he see Dr. Elizabeth Hart, a ministry mind healer and receive a clean bill of mental health before he was allowed to return to active field duty.”

Hermione nodded, recalling the brief period when Malfoy was confined to desk duty. She had thought it strange at the time considering his outstanding case solve ratio but had never asked; she and the blond Auror were not close. In fact, neither were Malfoy and Harry. Which caused her to wonder why Malfoy, notorious for his aloofness, would open up to his long-time nemesis.

“If Malfoy wanted to keep this private, how did you find out? No offence, Harry, while I love and adore you, I know Malfoy does not. I find it odd he would confess all this personal information to you.”

Harry chuckled softly. “He didn’t want to, but he was forced to explain his whereabouts after being missing for two days…”

“You had to view his memories for security purposes. Didn’t you?” Hermione accurately surmised.

“Yes,” Harry confirmed. “He wanted to warn me what I would find there.” He handed her the file. “Plus, Dr. Hart insisted he let someone know the extent of Astoria’s harassment, and since he knew I would be reading her report on his sessions, he chose to explain the entire situation to me.”

Hermione took several minutes to peruse the incident file. Her cheeks flushed as she read Harry’s detailed accounting of Malfoy’s memories of how Astoria had sex with the blond wizard for two days while he was tied to her bed. When she was through, she knew she had seen enough to warrant another conversation with one Astoria Greengrass.

“We need to speak with her again.”

“I know,” Harry agreed.

“When you interviewed her previously, did you search her flat?” she asked, returning Malfoy’s file to him.

“Yeah,” Harry said as he took the file and placed it in a drawer in his desk. He used a muggle key and locked the drawer before adding a ward to his desk as well. “She let me in and I looked in every room of her flat. He wasn’t there.”

“Harry, I know you wanted to protect Malfoy’s privacy, but really, you should have shared this information before now,” she scolded.

“Why do I feel like I’m back in Hogwarts and you’re nagging me about my homework,” he teased.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she got to her feet. “This is serious. Stalking is bad enough, but actually taking him captive…that is an entirely new level of crazy,” she said as she took hold of her robes and slipped them on. “If it’s her that means she’s had him for almost a month!”

Harry sighed, realizing there was no way around Hermione’s chiding. “I know,” he replied. “I’ve had her under surveillance. She has not had any strange behavior or guests and seems genuinely concerned for him. She’s called me several times pressuring me to find him.”

“If you’re so certain it’s not Astoria, then why are we even speaking with her?”

He shrugged. “We are out of leads. It’s time to revisit old ones.”

“Well this time we need to look closer than a visual room by room surveil.”

He pulled a piece of parchment from inside his Auror robes and waved it. “I have the authorization to conduct a thorough search of her home right here.”

“Good,” Hermione said, picking up her wand. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so we still have a ways to go but if you're reading this...leave a comment yeah? Let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New leads and old obsessions come into focus. The killer is on the prowl while Hermione and Harry are still on the hunt for Draco...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own HP. If I did Draco would have a lot more screen time in the movies!  
> No Warnings for the chapter.

**Chapter 3**

________________________________________________________________________________

**August 26 th, 2009: Astoria Greengrass’ Flat.**

Theo Nott answered the knock at Astoria’s door.

His expression went from mildly irritated to bitterly brassed off in seconds flat. “Oh, bugger off. You’re joking,” he said when he saw Hermione and Harry standing there. “What do you want now, Potter?” The former Slytherin asked, the acerbic undertone in his voice clear.

“Nott,” Harry acknowledged. “Is Astoria home?”

“You know she is,” he replied brusquely. He kept his slender body between the Aurors and the flat. “Don’t you think you’ve caused her enough needless trouble?”

Hermione’s brow raised at the underlying anger in the brunette wizard’s voice. “We’re sorry for the inconvenience, Nott, but we need to speak with Astoria again,” she said in a no nonsense like manner. “Kindly step aside.”

“Fine, but I’m owling my solicitor immediately. You will not be questioning her without representation, Potter,” Nott said as he moved to the side to allow them entrance into the high end flat.

Astoria must have heard their voices because she rushed into the front room. “Is it Draco? Have you found him?”

Hermione was stunned at the young woman’s appearance. Astoria had always been a thin witch, but she had still been curvy and incredibly beautiful. Now she was barely more than skin and bones, with sunken cheeks and a greyish pallor to her skin. Hermione was uncertain if the deterioration of her physical appearance was due to her condition or Draco’s disappearance, but the Auror suspected it was the latter when the woman practically wilted into herself when Harry told her there was no new developments in Malfoy’s case. The hope literally died in her eyes and, call it women’s intuition, but Hermione began to agree with Harry, she didn’t believe Astoria responsible for Draco going missing. However, they had a job to do and women’s intuition was not a legitimate reason for not following through with their mission; rules are rules.

Harry handed Astoria the search documents. The young woman opened them, frowned and then handed the papers off to Theo Nott, who perused them with a sneer, before he began to complain about harassment.

Astoria collapsed on her couch, her face in her hands, trembling and shaking.

Harry winced at the young woman’s quiet sobs before turning his attention back to Theo, who was glaring at the two Aurors angrily. “We’re simply revisiting everyone in Malfoy’s life, Nott. In fact, you might as well stay put, I’m going to want to speak with you again as well.”

“As if I would leave Astoria alone to be grilled by you two,” he scoffed and sat down on the couch next to the pretty young witch, rubbing her back soothingly.

While Harry went through Astoria’s living room, opening drawers and going through her papers, Hermione watched the two former Slytherins. She was surprised when she witnessed Nott gazing at Astoria with such longing. It was obvious he cared deeply; it was just as obvious Astoria was oblivious to his desires. In fact, Hermione would bet her entire first edition collection that Astoria Greengrass had no idea Theo Nott was in love with her.

After searching the living and sitting rooms, they moved on to Astoria’s bedroom. As they began their search, opening drawers, etcetera, she told Harry what she had witnessed from Nott.

“Unrequited love is a strong motive. Perhaps he wanted to eliminate his competition,” she said, moving on to a small set of double doors that led to what she assumed was Astoria’s closet. She opened the doors and sucked in a sharp breath as she took in what was inside.

Oh. My. Sweet. Merlin.

“Uh, Harry,” she called, “I think you need to see this.”

Harry came over to see what she was looking at and froze, staring in shock. “Blimey,” he breathed. “What is this?”

Both Aurors stared inside the eight x ten walk-in. Astoria’s clothes and shoes took up one side of the room, but they were being overtaken and pushed aside by the pictures. Hermione had never seen anything like it. Every-single-tiny-inch of wall space within the large closet was covered with wizarding and muggle pictures of Draco Malfoy, alone and/or with a variety of women in numerous settings and places.

Taking a hesitant step into Astoria’s barmy alter to Draco Malfoy, Hermione felt chills race up her spine. “I believe the technical term is obsessive psychosis,” she replied softly, stunned at the sheer volume of photos; there were hundreds of them, all starring a certain platinum haired wizard.

“Or you can say this is proof Astoria is completely off her trolley,” Harry muttered, the small hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he got the full scope of Astoria’s obsession with Malfoy.

Hermione moved inside the small shrine, turning this way and that, looking at each picture closely. The majority were muggle photos of Draco leaving or entering his residence in muggle London, however, there were numerous photos that captured the wizard in Daigon Alley too. There were shots of him outside Borgin and Burkes and Slug and Jigger’s Apothecary, another of him leaving Quality Quidditch Supplies with a new broom, smoking a cigarette in front of Nott’s Naughtiest, (she hadn’t known Malfoy even smoked) walking into Gringotts’s and Eeylops Owl Emporium. There was even a wizard’s picture of Draco and herself from months prior arguing outside her flat after he had requested a list from her research department regarding all dark magic rituals that used a human heart as a sacrifice. Hermione’s assistant had accidentally placed the list in Hermione’s ‘in box’ instead of her ‘out box” and she had taken it home with her by mistake. It had caused a huge misunderstanding between Malfoy and herself, the result of which Hermione could see as she watched herself get into a heated argument with him in the picture; it ended with Malfoy grabbing a file from her and storming off.

All the pictures were labeled by the month they were taken and where they were taken; had the pictures not displayed such a disturbing example of stalking, Hermione would have appreciated Astoria’s organization skills. Accumulating such a wide variety of photos had to have taken hours upon hours of time involved with observing Malfoy.

Hermione wondered if Astoria had hired someone to follow Draco or if the photos were taken by the witch herself.

She moved on to the next wall of pictures. And found herself alarmed even further. The photos were another blend of wizarding and muggle and they were all of Malfoy intimately involved with various witches and (Hermione assumed) muggle women.

The pictures started in October, a few months after Malfoy had ended things with Astoria. They began with Draco and Padma Patil. The couple was in front of Madame Malkin’s Robes for all Occasions. There was a light snow and Patil was smiling up at Malfoy in a manner that made Hermione realize Padma was intimate with Draco; Malfoy leaned down and brushed a kiss to Patil’s lips at the end of the scene. The next photos were a bit more salacious. There was one from November where Draco and Padma were snogging each other outside Patil’s small flat and then a variety of clandestine muggle photographs dated from October through early December that showed the couple entering and then leaving a few different London Hotels together.

After Padma, there was approximately fifty muggle photos featuring Draco and four different unknown women, two blondes, a red head and a brunette. The photos were dated from January through April and showed Malfoy and the women entering and leaving a variety of London eating establishments. There were at least twenty pictures of Draco and the brunette, but nothing truly intimate. The photos were taken from some distance though the use of a high-power lens much like the ones muggle paparazzi used when taking photos of celebrities or the British aristocracy.

The next series were wizarding photos beginning in March and were all of Malfoy and Mandy Brocklehurst, the former Ravenclaw from their year at Hogwarts. The first one had Draco and Mandy in front of Sugar Plum Sweetshop, they were smiling at each other and Hermione had to do a double take at the happy grin on Malfoy’s face. She had never seen him look so…relaxed. The couple briefly kissed outside the shop before going their separate ways. That was followed by several pictures from April where the pair as walking along Daigon Alley, arm in arm. Following those pictures was a set of three moving photos from May showing Malfoy and Mandy entering The Leaky Cauldron; Malfoy’s hand was on the small of the Brocklehurst’s back as he opened the door for her. The next one had them going up the stairs to a private room and then the last one featured Draco and Mandy leaving the Leaky Cauldron. In the last photo, Hermione watched as the blond wizard leaned in and snogged the former Ravenclaw hotly before they parted ways. The pictures played on a loop, one after the other.

Hermione could not understand why Astoria would want to watch these. Judging by the chuffed expressions on both Malfoy’s and Mandy’s faces, it was obvious what had gone on in that room.

The next photo was also dated May. It was surely a morning after scene seeing as it was daylight, Malfoy wasn’t wearing his robes and his hair was messy, like he’d just got out of bed. He had on a dress shirt, but his tie was looped around his neck, unknotted and Mandy was in a bathrobe. The couple kissed for several long moments before he turned and strolled down her walkway, he was smiling again in a way that did strange things to Hermione’s blood pressure. The photo looped on that scene again and again.

The final, and most unsettling photo of Malfoy and Mandy was circled in red and dated June 6th; the pearl handled dagger thrust into the middle of Mandy’s face lent the photo an air of sinister foreboding that was beyond distressing. Hermione wondered why this photo in particular had a precise date on it and had been treated so viciously, and then it dawned on her—it was the day after Malfoy’s birthday. The blond wizard had spent his birthday with Mandy, Hermione imagined that might be enough to cause Astoria to lose the plot yet again, hence the dagger in Mandy’s face.

She peered at the photo. In it, the attractive raven-haired witch was standing in front of (what Hermione assumed was) her bedroom window wearing only a bra. She was alone at first until Draco entered the scene and came up behind his lover. He wrapped his arms around Mandy’s waist before sliding his palms up her torso to cup her breasts. He lowered his head to place a kiss on her shoulder while Mandy wrapped an arm around Draco’s neck and turned her head for his kiss. He caught her lips with his and the couple began to snog rather heatedly before the moment ended and looped back to Mandy standing at the window alone.

The stalking photos in Astoria’s possession disturbed Hermione on many levels. The woman was obviously obsessed with Malfoy, dangerously so. However, it wasn’t just the invasion of private moments, the intense obsession or even the destruction of Mandy’s face that made the photos alarming. It was knowing how Greengrass felt about Malfoy that made them truly bizarre because Hermione could not help but wonder why in the actual fuck Astoria would want pictures of her heart’s desire having intimate rendezvous with all these other witches? Did she enjoy tormenting herself, which showed a new level of barmy, or were the photos a prelude to some revenge plot?

“Well that’s rather ominous,” Harry commented, his green eyes taking in the knife protruding from the picture of the pretty Ravenclaw.

Hermione nodded. “It is, but it’s not directed at Draco. It’s aimed at Mandy.”

“True,” Harry agreed. “I’m not sure which are more disturbing, these, or the ones I found on the next wall?”

Hermione went to move around him to get a look. “You might not want to do that,” Harry said.

Hermione of course did not listen. “Sweet mother of Merlin,” she breathed when she got her first look.

They were all wizarding pictures of a quite naked Malfoy bound to the bed in what had to be Astoria’s bedroom since Hermione recognized the large ornate headboard in the photos—if she glanced over Harry’s shoulder, she could see it from the closet. He was obviously furious, scowling as he snarled something at whoever (Astoria?) was taking the photos. In some he fought against the ropes restraining him, his muscles rippling as he pulled and tugged, trying to escape. Hermione felt her cheeks blaze with heat when her eyes (without permission) focused on the impressive erection he was sporting, horrified when it moved in the pictures as well as he struggled to free himself.

“Oh!” she gasped and quickly averted her gaze. “I think we’ve seen enough. Don’t you, Harry?”

She sounded breathless and Harry gave her a strange look, which Hermione ignored as she turned away from Harry and cast a quick wordless/wandless cooling charm on herself.

"I told you not to look," he teased.

"Yes, well...if I'm going to effectively investigate this case I have to see all the evidence, don't I?"

"I suppose," Harry agreed. He let out a sigh and rubbed a hand through his messy hair. “I’d say this is proof you were right, ‘Mione; Astoria _cannot_ be taken off the suspect list.”

“I don’t know,” Hermione murmured relieved to feel her face at a normal temperature again. “These show such an intense level of obsession. I think you were right, Harry. If Astoria had him, I can't help but believe he would be right here. I don’t think she has the strength, physical or mental, to keep him locked away and I highly doubt she’d hurt him.”

“So, where does that leave us?”

“I’m not sure.” Hermione turned away from the naked Malfoy pictures, she would examine why she became so flustered later. In that moment she focused on the ones with the women instead and how they could help with their case. “Did you know he was dating Mandy, or Padma?”

“Padma, yeah,” he said. “Astoria came into the office screaming about her on several occasions.” His eyes went back to the “Mandy” photos, especially the one with the knife. “I hadn’t a clue about Mandy Brocklehurst.” He turned to Hermione. “I’ve already questioned Patil, but Brocklehurst hasn’t been questioned nor has she stepped forward.”

“Suspicious,” Hermione said. “Looks like we have a new person of interest to question.” She pointed to the unknown brunette found in the muggle photos. “Her too.” The blondes and red head were total strangers, but the brunette… “She looks bloody familiar,” she said, tapping her chin. “I know I’ve seen her before, but I can’t think of where it might have been.” She glanced to Harry. “This will drive me spare if I can’t figure it out. Does she look familiar to you?”

“Wait a minute.” Harry peered closer. “Is that…Megan Jones from Potions Club?” He turned to Hermione. “You remember her, yeah? She was a Hufflepuff. Used to let us use the potions equipment.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. She had forgotten all about the girl. She gasped as it became clear to her. “You know, I think it is.” She shot him a pleased smile. “Nicely done, Harry.”

“Anything to save that brilliant mind of yours,” he teased.

They confiscated the photos. However, after dealing with Nott's attorney, they were finally allowed to interview Greengrass about the pictures. She admitted she was in love with Draco. She admitted she hated Mandy Brocklehurst. But she utterly denied having anything to do with Malfoy's disappearance and, despite having the photos, they still had nothing that linked her to anything more than stalking Draco. When Hermione asked her if she wanted to help find Draco, Astoria had even handed over the name and contact information for the private investigator she'd hired to trail Malfoy and take pictures.

This more than anything convinced both Harry and Hermione Astoria was innocent of abducting Draco Malfoy.

Nott’s interview was another story. Every single question had to be run through his solicitor first and Nott played with them during the interview. He was as slippery as his Slytherin background would suggest, utterly evasive regarding his relationship with Astoria but a tad more open regarding Malfoy. With his attorney's permission, he discussed Draco questioning him about the murdered witches and he also admitted speaking with the missing Auror the day he disappeared, but Nott explained the conversation was just Malfoy’s way of inquiring on Astoria’s mental and physical well-being since the blond wizard had ceased all contact with her after the Valentine’s incident. In the end, he offered nothing new to the investigation either, except more questions.

After several hours, of searches and interviews, Harry and Hermione left Astoria’s with nothing new relating to the missing person case. They did, however, leave with a box full of evidence that could have Greengrass prosecuted for harassment and/or malicious stalking.

Hermione was for filing formal charges, but Harry was against it, saying he wanted to respect Malfoy’s wishes.

At the end of the day, Harry got his way and no charges were filed. Hermione was furious with her old friend.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

**September 9 th, 2009:**

The Daily Prophet was calling him The Ripper. He wasn’t sure he liked it. The name made him feel rather savage, but it also reduced his work to mindless brutality. He was an artist and a researcher, not a mindless killer. However, he supposed it fit. He did rather enjoy ripping into the flesh of his subjects as he conducted his work. He was quite accomplished at it really.

His last project had been a work of true craftmanship. She perfectly displayed the evolution of his endeavors. He had almost stayed behind to watch as two thirds of the Golden Trio (maybe he should start calling them the Golden Duo) discovered his offering. She had been magnificent. Hanging in the alley behind Borgin and Burke’s like a beautiful shell, a testament to the emptiness of it all.

Speaking of subjects, it was time to find a new test study. He thought to take one of his rival’s conquests and make her his next project, but ultimately decided there really was no point (or fun) in making an example of one of _his_ witches when his rival was missing and would not be there to personally see the effort put forth in creating such an artistic display, nor would his adversary experience the pain filled awe required when the body was discovered.

Taking one of Malfoy’s witches without Malfoy there to discover it personally lacked savoir-faire and would be, at best, a hollow victory.

No. He needed something fresh. Something new and adventurous. He set his cup of tea down as a striking young witch took a seat a few tables down from him at the café. She was young, blonde and dressed for success in a high waisted pencil skirt and silky looking crème blouse under her robes. His blood began to hum as he studied her during her lunch, watching her intently while he allowed himself to get a feel for her.

Was she worthy of his attentions?

When she got up from her table, he followed at a distance. Several times she stopped, looking around and behind her as if she felt him too. This intrigued him, stirred his hunter’s instincts and made them flare to life once again. He licked his lips, shivering with the excitement of choosing a new project. She began to walk faster, her heels click-clacking on the cobblestone walkway quicker and quicker. As she hurried down the street, she looked behind her again just as he stepped into an alley, avoiding her gaze.

He smiled, a cold, deadly smirk.

Did she sense the danger lurking behind her?

The possibility left him incredibly aroused.

He spent the rest of the afternoon watching her, by nightfall, he knew she was the one.

He could barely contain the impulse to simply take her right away, but recklessness would never do. He had a routine for a purpose. It was part of the work. Discover, study, capture, dissect. He had to adhere to each of his routines, if not, he was simply a barbarian that murdered witches, not the skilled Ripper that produced brilliant works of art that struck fear within the wizarding community.

His blood hummed as he followed her to her flat. He had found his next project.

He’d sorted his prey from the herd.

The hunt was on.

__________________________________________________________________________________

**September 10 th, 2009: The Ministry of Magic Building**

“Hermione, we’ve hit a dead end—in both cases,” Harry said as they walked towards the lifts inside the bustling lobby of the Ministry building. “We have no new leads. No sightings. Nothing. In Malfoy’s case, the statements from Mandy, Padma and Megan offered us nothing new. Padma has an airtight alibi for the day he disappeared, and Mandy says she was still seeing him on and off.”

“Did Megan Jones give you the list she’d created for Draco before he disappeared?”

Harry nodded. “Yes. As Hogwarts’ alumni coordinator she keeps track of the students who’ve graduated. Apparently, he asked for a list of students from our year, from both years prior and two years after our class.”

“Why? Did he suspect the Ripper was a student from one of those five years?” Hermione gave a frustrated growl. “I wish he’d left some kind of notes explaining his suspicions!”

“Malfoy kept his notes on the case with him,” Harry explained. “When he went missing, so did his notes.” They arrived at the lifts. “Have you had any luck finding the other women we saw in Astoria’s photos?”

“No,” Hermione sighed, pressing the call button. “I have gone through every witch registry from Great Britain, the United States, France, Italy, Belgium along with every other ministry across Europe and Russia comparing the photos we have from Astoria to photos included in the registry. Nothing.” She shook her head. “As barmy as it sounds, I think they’re muggles.”

Harry’s brow shot to his hairline. “Malfoy, the poster boy for pureblood elitism was dating muggles?”

Hermione shrugged. “I can’t think of another reason why none of the women in the photos have appeared in any of the magical registries. Can you?”

“No,” Harry agreed. “Well, then I would say that is another dead end because unless one of his muggle dates did something to him in his sleep, Malfoy could have easily used magic to escape.”

“I know, but there has to be something we’re missing,” Hermione said. “People—wizards, especially wizards like Draco Malfoy do not just vanish without a trace.”

Harry shrugged. “He’s been missing for nearly two months and no one has seen or heard from Draco Malfoy since the day after Jeanne Greystone’ murder.” They stepped into the lift. Harry sighed and hit the floor button. “I think it’s time we look at the very real possibility that Malfoy ran afoul of our killer and is probably dead because of it.”

“But we never found a body, Harry,” Hermione replied. “If Draco was murdered by the killer, don’t you think he would have taunted us with Malfoy’s body? Malfoy wasn’t exactly unknown, and this killer likes attention.”

Harry nodded. He was with her so far.

“Look at the way he has disposed of the last two bodies. Jeanne Grayson was disemboweled and posed in front of the war memorial in Budleigh Babberton. Carol Cutter had her organs removed and was then hung by her heels, her intestines hanging around her neck and put on display behind Borgin and Burke’s in Knockturn Alley. They were gruesome and designed for maximum effect. Our killer likes to make statements with his victims. I just think if Malfoy was one of those victims, we’d know it on a rather grand scale with a display of his body.”

“You have a point there,” Potter admitted, “but what else makes sense?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione grumbled, “but I’m not going to give up until I figure it out.”

They entered Hermione’s office where Draco’s old case files relating to the Ripper had been moved. “I know Malfoy’s disappearance has something to do with our murders but what I don’t understand is why the killer hasn’t either dumped his body or let him go.” 

Hermione scowled as she looked at the Daily Prophet’s headline from last week. She read it aloud. “ _The Ripper Strikes Again! Draco Malfoy Still Missing! Aurors Baffled. Is Harry Potter Still the Boy Who Saved the Wizarding World or Has He Become the Auror Who Cannot Crack the Case?”_

She snorted with contempt. “Skeeter has hit a new low with this article!” she scoffed. “Utter rubbish!” She tossed the paper back on her desk with a frustrated little growl and began to pace.

“Is it?” Harry said quietly.

She froze at his words. “Is what it?” Hermione asked.

“Is it rubbish?” Harry clarified. “We _don’t_ have any leads in the case. Malfoy _is_ still missing. We _are_ baffled on when and where the killer will strike again, and I haven’t been able to solve the case. So,” he said, scratching his head, “is the article truly rubbish?”

Hermione was well aware of how Harry could hold himself personally responsible for everyone’s safety. He did it often enough when they were fighting Voldemort. He had not changed over the last ten years. She could not let him begin to blame himself.

“It is because we are doing everything we can to solve the cases, Harry. We may be witches and wizards, but we can’t just magically create leads.”

“But we have nothing. Nothing!” Harry got up from his chair and began to pace, his body tense showing how much stress he was under of late. “For Merlin’s sake, ‘Mione, we can’t even solve a case involving one of our own! How are we supposed to catch a killer who seems to appear and disappear like a sodding ghost?!”

Hermione knew Harry was under pressure regarding the “Ripper” case. Shacklebolt was owling him daily seeking some new development. In addition, it wasn’t just Skeeter and the Daily Prophet reporting negative headlines. This case had been picked up by the wizarding news media across Europe, Russia and even the Americans were now starting to run stories on the return of “Jack the Ripper”! It was a right mess and Harry as catching a lot of flak from across the wizarding globe due to the lack of progress in the murders as well as Malfoy’s missing status. She felt for him and could not imagine how difficult his job was presently, but she needed him to not have a breakdown on her either.

“Harry. It’s hard, yeah? But we don’t fall apart. We keep going, no matter what. Just like we did when we were searching for Horcruxes and it seemed as if we’d never find them all. You remember that, right?”

He took a deep breath and nodded.

“Good,” Hermione said. “Then let’s start again.” She sat down behind her desk and handed him a file. “You work the murders while I work Malfoy.”

There was a small pause and then Harry let out a snort and then a snicker. “You’ll work Malfoy, eh?”

Hermione flushed. “Err… that came out sounding wrong.”

“Did it?” The boy that lived grinned when Hermione narrowed her eyes at him warningly. “You can scowl all you want but don’t think I didn’t see the way you blushed when we were looking at those barmy pictures at Greengrass’. You think Malfoy’s fit, don’t you?”

Feeling a sudden blush coming on, Hermione did he best to maintain her composure. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mmm-hm,” Harry said, but his grin hadn’t faded.

She shoved another file into his hands. “Here. You’d be far more helpful reading this, than spouting nonsense, thank you very much.”

Hermione’s words were snippy, but she was actually happy to see Harry smile—even at her expense. It was the first real one she’d seen from him in weeks.

___________________________________________________________________________________

**London: September 13 th, 2009. **

He found he liked stalking his prey nearly as much as the kill.

She was a pretty thing. It was a shame he had to snuff out such a beautiful flame, but it was necessary for his mission. That must come before all else.

He stepped behind a large tree as the blonde witch he had tracked for days left her flat dressed in another one of her smart pencil skirts, a frilled blouse—pale pink today, and dark fitted jacket that matched her skirt. Christie Hedley was the picturesque vision of a young, single witch about town. She was carrying her dress robes instead of wearing them. He assumed because she wanted to keep them nice for something important. Like a job interview…? He knew she had just applied for a job at Gringotts, and if her confident stride was any indication, Christie looked ready to conquer the world.

Too bad, she would never have a chance to know whether she received the position.

She crossed the street, heading his way. His body tensed, pulse racing in anticipation as his prey moved closer and closer to his hiding spot. He imagined her terror as he sprung his trap. That as always one of his favorite parts. That initial moment when they realize he’s upon them before they have a chance to run, or even scream.

His cock rises along with his excitement.

His mind went to the blood. Such a wondrous thing. He had always been fascinated with it, even before Voldemort and his “blood mania”. Ever since he had dissected his neighbors’ kneazle at the tender age of five, he’d found the color and texture to be a beautiful thing. Thick and sticky, and such a brilliant shade of burgundy. People have the misconception that blood is bright red. It’s not. It’s deep and dark, like fine red wine. Yet, it was still all the same, whether you were pureblood, halfblood, mudblood or muggle; everyone bleeds the same perfectly lovely dark red fluid. 

Blood never changed. It could give life, or it could take it.

He preferred to do both.

He stepped from behind the tree as she power-walked past by him. Like the hunter he was, he struck quickly and efficiently, snatching young Christie from behind. He clapped a hand over her mouth and cast a quick disillusionment charm before apparating her away to his play house.

She never even had a chance.

So many had died in the name of blood. It was time for Christie to take her place of honor among the fallen.

__________________________________________________________________________________

**Muggle London: Sept. 15 th, 2009.**

Inside the busy coffee shop, Hermione waited in the line to order her coffee. She had spent the morning searching the flat of the latest Ripper victim. Christie Hedley made six so far. The young blonde, found much like the others, had been the youngest victim to date. Barely eighteen, Hedley had graduated from Hogwarts in May and had just been offered a job at Gringotts. Hermione felt sickened; she was far too young to have her life snuffed out by a madman.

Speaking of birthdays, Hermione realized her own was coming in less than a week. Harry and Ginny had invited her to dinner, but the truth of the matter was Hermione didn’t really feel like celebrating her birthday this year.

She was turning thirty.

Normally, she enjoyed her birthdays, but on days like today, after sifting through the meager belongings of young Christie Hedley, a witch who never really lived to her potential, Hermione felt every one of her years.

She finally got to the front of the line and placed her order. As she stepped aside to wait for the barista to make her latte, she absently studied her fellow patrons in the trendy coffee shop. A man, standing across the shop with cropped platinum hair caught her attention. He had his back to her as he studied the magazines offered in the rack for sale, but there was something terribly familiar with him. He reminded her so much of Draco Malfoy, she found herself staring. He was of the same size and shape, with slim hips and a lean muscled body, not bulky or broad, but sleek; a seeker’s body is how Hermione would describe Malfoy’s body type. The man had that same form.

As she watched him, the man turned his head and Hermione was able to get a better look at his face in profile. She just about fainted, because standing before her, in a random Starbucks coffee shop in muggle London, stood Draco Malfoy! His hair was cut shorter and he had a darker blond goatee and a light mustache as well, but there was no mistaking those silver eyes or that platinum blond hair. It was the missing Auror, alive and well, and in the flesh.

Her mind was filled with questions and before she made a conscious thought to do so, her feet carried her over to the man. “Malfoy?”

Either he did not hear her or was ignoring her, so she raised her voice a tad. “Draco? Draco Malfoy?”

She heard him sigh before he turned to face her. “Look, Draco was a great character but he’s not—” His words dropped abruptly, and his eyes widened in surprise. “Emma?” He gave her a charming grin and chuckled huskily. “Emma! It’s good to see you,” he said and suddenly Hermione found herself enveloped in his arms as he hugged her; he smelled of mint, crisp outdoors and a spicy, expensive cologne that teased the senses wonderfully.

He pulled back and held her at arm’s length, still smiling in a manner she had never seen from Draco Malfoy yet caused small heart palpitations in Hermione’s chest due to how very sexy it made him. “Emma, how are you?” He asked. “It’s been an age.”

“I…um…” Hermione had never felt so lost for words or information. Who the bloody hell was Emma?

“And why the bloody hell are you calling me Malfoy?” He added, shaking his head at her. “Isn’t that taking our roles in the Potter movies a little seriously, yeah?”

Before Hermione had a chance to even process his words, much less answer them, the barista was calling the next name for orders. “Tom,” she yelled, her voice carrying throughout the shop. “Pumpkin spiced latte for Tom Felton.”

Hermione watched in wide eyed amazement as he answered to that name and retrieved his beverage from the woman, offering a charming grin and a little flirtatious banter for the dewy-eyed young woman servicing the counter.

Why in the name of Merlin was he calling himself Tom Felton?

He returned with his coffee. “So, how have you been, love?”

Hermione was flummoxed. She had no idea what he was going on about, but now that she’d found him, she wanted some answers. “Malfoy where have you been? We’ve been searching everywhere for you. And why are you—?”

He interrupted her, frowning. “Emma, are you okay? And why the bloody hell do you keep calling me Draco Malfoy?”

Before Hermione could even begin to produce an answer to his confusing question, the barista called, “Granger. Latte Macchiato for Hermione Granger.”

His eyes widened. “Oh bollocks, you’re joking,” he muttered. “You’re seriously taking your character’s role a tad far, love.”

Hermione felt as if she’d stepped into some sort of alternate reality what with him spouting nonsense regarding characters and what not, but she needed to keep him in her sights in order to figure out what happened to him. “Wait here,” she told him, “that’s me.”

When she returned with her latte, he shook his head at her. “Why are you delving into the Hermione Granger character again?”

Hermione could not think of a reply. His question was so bizarre. What the bloody hell had happened to Draco?

He shrugged. “Seems a bit strange if you ask me. Unless…” He leaned in. “Is there another Harry Potter movie in the works?”

“Harry Potter, um… movie?” she parroted.

He looked at her strangely. “Yes. You know, the movies we’ve been making since we were all children,” he said with a shrug. “Personally, I was told we were through after the Battle of Hogwarts. I mean, where could the story go after Potter killed the dreaded Voldemort? But if you’ve heard different, I’d like to know because lately I’ve been doing a lot of reminiscing on Draco’s character actually. If there’s going to be another movie, perhaps I could negotiate to have him evolve a bit more this time.”

“That sounds fantastic,” she said as a means to stall. Her mind was reeling. So, he knew about Voldemort. He knew of the war, but he thought it was some kind of muggle movie? And he kept calling her Emma. Somehow, whoever changed his memories gave him the name of Tom, and her the name of Emma. She needed to keep him talking so she could get the full story.

“Em, are you sure you’re alright? You look a tad flushed.”

“Sorry, Tom, you know I bumped my head earlier. Still a little wonky.” She gave him her friendliest smile as she motioned to an empty table. “Should we sit? I’d love to catch up over a cuppa.”

He nodded and followed her to the table. “So,” he said, putting his elbows on the table and leaning in. “Give me the scoop, love. I thought Radcliffe said he didn’t want to play Harry Potter anymore.”

“Um…he’s thinking about changing his mind,” she replied, trying to keep her confusion from reaching her expression.

He snorted. “Figures. Typical Ratcliffe! The prat gets the title role and most of the screen time but whines about it typecasting him. Leaves us all to wait and see if he’ll agree to another sequel because you know the bleeding world revolves around his hairy arse!” He said with a curl of his lip. “What a wanker.”

Hermione barely restrained her jaw drop. He may call himself Tom, but that little upper lip sneer was all Malfoy. And if Radcliffe, aka “Ratcliffe” was Harry, then neither version of Malfoy cared for Harry Potter.

Playing along with him, Hermione asked, “So, if the opportunity to play Draco again was offered. Would you accept?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” he replied. “Don’t get me wrong, he was a great character to play, what with struggle between good and evil and all that rot, but honestly, he was pretty one dimensional too. They never allowed him to really grow.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Draco Malfoy started out a cowardly, racist bully and ended a cowardly defector who turned at the last minute to save his own hide. Not a lot of room there to make your mark as an actor, you know what I mean?”

Hermione, utterly lost at his own self-reflection, just nodded her head.

He winked at her. “Personally, I always thought they should have gotten Draco and Hermione together.”

She gasped. “Wh-what? Why?”

He shrugged. “Unresolved sexual tension,” he answered with a flirty smirk. “In my mind, Draco had a thing for Hermione, that’s why he picked on her so badly.”

“But Draco hated Hermione!” It was a knee-jerk answer on a topic that had hurt and upset her for years.

“Did he though? Or did he react defensively because she was everything he had been taught to hate and he suddenly found himself wanting her.”

Hermione’s jaw had dropped. What was this? Hearing him say Draco had “liked” her did funny things to her stomach. Was he accessing Draco’s memories and creating a narrative excusing those feelings? It was mind boggling and more than a little exciting.

“Don’t look so gobsmacked, Em. Surely, you’ve heard the old adage a boy picks on the girl he likes the most, yeah?”

“But Malfoy called Hermione horrible names; he called her a mudblood.”

He frowned. “The way I see it, mudblood was his parents’ ideology. He was brought up with it. Later he used it as a defense to keep his feelings for her at bay—he knew his pureblood parents would never accept a relationship with a muggle-born.”

Even if she believed all this, which she certainly didn’t, considering the amount of mind magic that had to have taken place to put Malfoy in this state, Hermione remembered Draco Malfoy teasing her throughout school—not exactly the way to win a girl’s heart.

“Know-it-all-swot also comes to mind too. Was that something he was _taught_ as well?”

“Hardly.” He laughed softly at her scowl. “Oh c’mon, let’s face it, Emma, I know you must have loved playing her, but Hermione Granger is a bit of a know-it-all.” Hermione narrowed her eyes while he shrugged. “Hey, at least your character got to win the war and be a hero. Mine was a git who would have been far more interesting had he been allowed some progressive change, especially when he was tasked to kill Dumbledore.”

He scooted forward in his chair, excitement making his expressive silver eyes dance. “You know, I wanted to show how confused and torn he was during that time. He was trying to protect his family, but he was tortured by what was being asked of him. Was sickened by it, ya know?”

His emotional reflection on his own character was fascinating. His disgust with himself and his desire to change and grow weren’t created by whoever did this to him; generating such complex levels of self-awareness within the mind was next to impossible. Memories could be planted through legilimens, but emotional reactions could not. The feelings he expressed were his own thoughts about himself expressed through a character analysis of Draco Malfoy. His observations regarding his memories intrigued Hermione, and she could not let go of his admission that Malfoy had liked her, much to her frustration. Had Draco truly had a crush on her. She thought back on all their interactions. Had he treated her like that because he was fighting an attraction?

The idea was absurd but more than a little exhilarating at the same time.

“…and he slipped further into depression because he didn’t really want to be a part of Voldemort’s plans.

With a start she realized she had tuned him out for a moment while she had analyzed her past with Malfoy.

“Mmm-hmm,” she replied, hoping he hadn’t noticed her inattention.

“Draco was taught to hate, but he wasn’t a killer. I’m not sure if it came across, but in my mind, he didn’t really have a choice when he took the dark mark and he despised himself for it; at least that was how I played it.”

At the mention of Voldemort’s mosmordre mark, Hermione’s eyes immediately dropped to his left arm. And there it was. It had faded a bit but there was no mistaking the Death Eater snake and skull symbol.

He noticed where her gaze landed and gave a rueful chuckle. “I know. Stupid, yeah? Who gets a tattoo related to the worst mistake a character ever made?” He pulled his sleeve down, covering the mark. “When I rented my new flat down the street, you know I felt the urge to cover it with a dragon. I even made the appointment with a local tattooist but changed my mind at the last moment. To me, this symbolizes how foolish people can be. It is the lowest point for Draco and a reminder of where he never wanted to be again.”

Hermione’s head was spinning. It was obvious he was Malfoy, but his mind, not his memories had been altered. He had not been obliviated nor was this a memory charm or spell gone wrong. No. Whoever did this to Malfoy wanted him to remember, they simply did not want him to be able to use his memories. So, they transfigured and reconstructed them into an alternate universe within his mind.

That took time and it took skill.

Hermione realized with a sense of dread that only an exceptionally gifted legilimens could have done this to Draco. She had to find a way to remain in his company until she could get in touch with Harry and have Malfoy brought back to Saint Mungo’s. Hopefully, the mind healers there could find a way to reverse the damage.

“You know, uh…Tom, I’ve heard from Rat—er—Radcliffe and he told me they will be making a new feature,” she said. “That is why I am going by Hermione. Trying to recapture her moods and what not. Will you play Draco then?”

He took a sip of his drink. “Perhaps, if they allowed the character to grow a bit more. Take his blood racism, that shite is taught, not ingrained, so why couldn’t he change that part of himself?” He ran a hand through his hair. “In my mind, I think Draco would have learned from the horrors he saw during the war and changed himself. He’s not a bloody idiot, despite being written as such at times.”

Hermione couldn’t help it, she giggled. Jessica Rabbit suddenly came to mind and her line of, “I’m not bad, I’m just written that way”.

He sighed. “Yeah, I know. It’s rubbish. They like Draco being the bad guy too bloody much to ever change him, so I can’t honestly see myself playing the wanker again.”

He had quite the backstory created. She was afraid to try and explain to him who he really was. She had to keep him with her and get him back to the wizarding world, but how?

“You know, my head is hurting. Did you say you had a flat nearby?”

He inclined his head towards the door of the shop. “Yeah, it’s just at the corner there. Why don’t you come with me?”

Perfect! Hermione readily agreed, and they left the coffee shop arm in arm.

Hermione watched as he spoke of decorating his flat animatedly.

“So, you said earlier you just recently moved here. How long ago?” she asked.

“Nearly two weeks ago.”

“And where did you live before that?”

He frowned. “Um…across London. Why?”

It was a rather vague response and he looked confused for a moment. Hermione stopped pushing. Malfoy’s mind had been modified drastically, pressing him for answers before getting him to a healer could be dangerous for his mental health.

They entered a lovely flat that was decorated in a manner that she thought suited Malfoy—expensive.

“Have a seat,” he said waving a hand at the dark hunter green couch in the modern living room.

She sat, looking around at the tasteful furniture in dark glossy woods, various shades of greens with silver or chrome lighting fixtures; she barely kept a smirk from her face. Apparently even memory loss couldn’t eliminate the inner serpent; Malfoy still drifted towards a Slytherin color scheme even without his personal identity.

“Are you hungry, love?” He called from the kitchen.

“Sure. That would be lovely. Thank you.”

Hermione grabbed her wand and put it behind her back as she crept into the kitchen. He had his back to her and was looking into a huge side by side stainless steel refrigerator. Seeing Malfoy using muggle appliances was bizarre. She stopped right behind him, put her wand to the side of his head and…

“Stupefy,” she whispered.

He collapsed to the floor and Hermione then levitated him back to the couch. She glanced down at him, relieved to see his handsome face again. She had begun to believe she would never find him, well, alive, that is. She stroked his jaw. He would be out for at least a couple of hours. She needed to get to the MLE department and speak to Harry as quick as possible. However, before she left, she magically bound him and grabbed his keys to the building, so she and Harry could get back in when they returned. Without intimate knowledge of where everything was in the flat, it would not be safe to apparate in. They could literally land right in the middle of a table and get splinched. To be safe, she and Harry would have to arrive at an apparating point and return to the flat the muggle way—with keys.

With a final look around, Hermione disapparated to the apparating point outside the Ministry building, entering the building through the line at the public loo.

__________________________________________________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, there’s part three. I know this is an extra long chapter. I just never felt it was right to end it until after she stupefied poor Draco (Tom?) LOL. Thanks, if you took the time to leave feedback so far. Reviews are love to the muse and the writer, so don’t be shy. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I have several chapters of this done so far so I decided to post it here. Reviews and comments are love for both the writer and the muse! :)


End file.
